


Bestseller

by etotakatsuki



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etotakatsuki/pseuds/etotakatsuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaneki Ken is an up-and-coming artist new to the comic industry. He's had some success with his first few short stories, and gained a small cult fanbase, but he's still waiting for his big break.</p><p>As it so happens, Takatsuki Sen, his favorite author, is looking for a comic artist to collaborate with on an upcoming project. This could be the opportunity Kaneki has been waiting for, in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love the potential between Kaneki and Eto in canon, but it can never and should never develop into anything romantic in canon. So I wanted to write an AU where the two of them could meet and talk about books and be nerds together without trying to kill each other. This is what happened.

"Hide, I can't do this."

Hide scoffed. "Of course you can! You're a great artist, and her work is already an inspiration to you, right?"

Kaneki groaned, fidgeting uncomfortably on his couch. "That's the problem. She's a famous best-selling author. Her works are iconic. And I'm just --"

"An incredibly talented up-and-coming horror artist with a strong cult following. You're at the start of a promising career, and teaming up with someone like Takatsuki could give you the break you need! Plus, you love her."

Kaneki blushed. "But she could have her pick of artists. There's so many in the industry who are more qualified than me."

"Yeah, she could have her pick of anyone to work with," Hide agreed. "And she wants to meet with you."

Kaneki frowned, unconvinced.

Hide plopped onto the couch beside him. "Stop underselling yourself, Kaneki! At least meet with her. Even if you don't get the job, you'll still get a date with your favorite author." Hide waggled his eyebrows.

Kaneki flushed darker. "Hide, it's not a date if it's for work."

Hide waved his hand dismissively. "She wants to meet you for coffee. Work or not, you're going out with Takatsuki Sen. That's something to brag about."

“Hide, why?” Kaneki groaned unhappily. The fact that Hide had called Takatsuki's publisher about her advertisement was bad enough, but he had to set up a meeting like this?

“Hey, it was her idea. And I figured you'd be more comfortable in some place like that, with just her, instead of meeting in a stuffy office.”

Well, that was probably true, Kaneki had to admit. He did feel nervous going to meetings in huge intimidating office buildings. But, this was a meeting with Takatsuki. She was famous. And they would be in public. What if someone recognized her and interrupted their meeting, or wanted to take pictures, or figured out why they were meeting and --

“Hey,” Hide interrupted softly, as if he knew where Kaneki’s panicked thoughts were headed. “She said it was a small shop, that doesn’t get much traffic. She said she frequents the place and has never had a problem.”

Kaneki worried the edge of his shirt between his fingers, considering.

After a long moment of silence, Hide sighed. “If you want me to, I can cancel the meeting. It’s okay. There will be other opportunities, you don’t have to --”

“No,” Kaneki interrupted. “You’re right.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll do it.”

-

That was how found himself agreeing to meeting his favorite author in a tiny coffee shop to discuss collaborating on her new project. Him. Kaneki Ken. Collaborating with Takatsuki.

And now, here he was, waiting in the shop with his portfolio in hand and questioning himself for the fiftieth time.

And she was late.

He arrived twenty minutes early, and she was late.

He fidgeted in his seat, thumbing the corners of his portfolio. He was the only customer in this tiny coffee shop, and the barista kept sending him strange looks. Probably wondering if he was going to buy something or just sit around twitching and looking out the window.

A quick glance at his watch told him she was nearly as late as he had been early, and he tried not to think about how that probably meant she wasn’t coming, that he’d been stood up, that he shouldn’t have bothered getting excited about a meeting with Takatsuki Sen because of course she’d have something better to do than meet a young, unknown artist like him in a coffee shop to discuss collaborating when she could --

A flash of green in the corner of his eye cut off his thoughts, and he turned his head just in time to see a small, apologetic woman burst through the door.

There was no other word for the way she entered the shop, seemingly in an instant, and filled the space with energy. She appeared like a storm, her presence commanding and impossible to ignore. She drew all eyes to her, but seemed oblivious or indifferent to her own effects.

Kaneki watched her eyes sweep across the room, then settle on him -- the only other patron in the shop -- and then approach him in quick, confident strides.

“Sorry, I slept in,” she sing-songed, pulling up a chair and seating herself across from him. She smiled broadly, eyes crinkling behind her glasses, and leaned forward to rest her chin on her hands. “You must be Kaneki hm? You’re just what your friend described.”

He nodded, a bit too taken aback to respond. What had Hide said about him?

“Oh, have you ordered anything?” she asked, glancing at the empty table, and before Kaneki could respond, she’d hopped out of her seat and approached the counter. “Could I get an iced coffee, please? And a…?”

She turned back to Kaneki, and he jumped. “Oh, uh, black coffee for me.”

“Interesting,” she replied with a smirk before turning back to the barista. “And one black coffee. Thank you!”

She waited by the counter, humming as the barista worked, and Kaneki watched her, and he was reminded again of a natural disaster -- beautiful, but powerful, even deadly.

He'd known what she looked like -- he'd seen her picture before. But seeing her in person was something different, and he found himself unable to look away. She was beautiful, to be sure, but that wasn't what caught his eye. It was the feeling she instilled in him when he looked at her.

She was smaller than he’d expected, but her size didn't detract from the aura she exuded -- if anything, it intensified the feeling, the simultaneous sense of awe and unease that came with being near her.

He wanted to draw her.

The barista slid two drinks across the counter, and Takatsuki gave her a smile and cash in exchange. She picked up the drinks and returned to Kaneki, and placed his in front of him before taking her seat again.

He muttered a quick thanks, wondering if he should offer to pay for his coffee, and somewhat embarrassed that he'd allowed her to do buy it for him in the first place, but she interrupted his thoughts.

“So, I assume you’d like to know about the job, hm?” she asked, stirring her coffee with her straw. “I have an idea, a story planned out, but,” -- she took a large sip -- “I don’t think it’s meant to be told in prose.”

She paused, and gave him a meaningful look. He felt like she expected him to respond. He nodded, hoping that would be enough.

After a moment, she continued. “It feels like a story that needs a visual medium. So, I thought, perhaps I’d try to collaborate with someone. But --” she paused again, playing with the straw of her drink. “I need to work with someone who can tell the story the right way. Someone who can take my words and expand them into something more. I don’t want someone who will draw what I tell them. I want someone who will draw what my story tells them.”

She fixed him with that stare again, the one that made him feel like she was looking for something. He nodded, but this time he forced himself to speak. “I understand. You want someone with a visual artist’s eyes, who can craft each scene in ways you can’t, and who can interpret the material well enough to represent your vision accurately.”

She blinked at him, and he felt his face heating.

“Or, is that not --”

“No,” she interrupted, leaning forward with a broad grin. “That’s exactly what I meant.”

He smiled back at her, beginning to feel much more at ease with their conversation. Speaking with her was turning out to be as easy as reading her books -- he felt like he understood her without trying.  She smiled wider, as if she knew his thoughts, and leaned back into her chair.

“So, Ka-ne-ki,” she hummed, drawing out each syllable of his name. “Your manager mentioned you are familiar with my work?” Her eyes shone as she looked at him, waiting for his answer, and he knew this was another calculated question, just like her first.

He nodded, cleared his throat, and decided to answer honestly. “You could say that. I’ve read all of your books, and I’ve been a fan since _Dear Kafka_. It’s one of my favorite novels.”

She rested her chin on her hand, still smiling, still watching him carefully.

“Your writing is skillful and beautiful, but what draws me in is the content. The themes of loss, loneliness, despair. The use of taboo and horrific subject material to convey the darker parts hidden within individuals, in relationships, and in the world. Your writing --” _makes me feel like I’m not so alone,_ he wanted to say. _Like someone else feels this way._ But instead, he settled for, “makes it easy to identify with the protagonist, to understand their pain.”

She watched him for a while longer, apparently considering his words. Finally, she leaned back, still smiling at him. “Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me,” she drawled, sounding amused, and he wondered if he’d said something wrong.

But before he could gauge her reaction, she shifted topics. “Let's discuss your work now,” she continued, smile shifting into a smirk. “Did you bring a sample for me to see?”

“Oh, yes,” he answered quickly, looking down at the portfolio in his hands. It wasn't the usual set of work he brought to potential employers -- he had a number of pieces that felt too personal to share that way. But he hadnt made that distinction this time. He'd gone through his collection and picked what he thought was his best work, regardless of the content. Only now did he start to question that decision, as he held the folder out to her and watched her gently take it from him.

She smiled down at it, a softer, smaller smile than she'd worn for most of their meeting, and carefully opened the cover. His eyes stayed glued to her face, watching for any kind of reaction.

Silence settled between them as she looked through his work. She paused on each page, taking her time to appreciate each piece before she turned to the next. Occasionally, her expression would flicker from her careful, neutral one to something else -- something Kaneki couldn't quite recognize. And that fact made him fidget in his chair.

He itched to ask her thoughts, to know what those reactions were. Did she hate his work? Did she think him to amateur for her project? Was she disgusted with the content of some of his drawings? His mind raced in the silence, and he found himself questioning what he was even doing here, showing his art to someone like her. He felt foolish, suddenly far too aware of his age and inexperience. He wanted to snatch his portfolio back and run, pretend he'd never agreed to this meeting, to avoid the inevitable moment when his favorite author would tell him she was disappointed in his work, in the art her books had inspired him to create.

But he didn't, and Takatsuki turned the next page, unaware of his inner turmoil. Kaneki slumped back against his chair, and resigned himself to his fate.

“You know,” she spoke suddenly, and paused her browsing to glance up at him over his portfolio, “I’m familiar with your work as well.” He must have looked shocked, because she laughed softly before continuing. “Yes, I enjoyed your first short story, and I anticipated your next releases. The stories were simple on their own -- charming, but simple -- but your art brought them to life. Your style, the way you craft each page -- it’s captivating.”

“Thank you,” he replied earnestly.

She hummed, and glanced back down at the folder in her hands. “That was why I wanted to meet with you today. I already enjoyed your art. But this portfolio…” She trailed off as she turned a page, eyes tracing over the art. It was a recent piece, one he was quite proud of, and depicted a man underwater, struggling break the surface, being dragged down and torn apart by figures who looked like him, only twisted and distorted. He held his breath while she studied it, scanning her face for any reactions.

Finally, she looked up at him, that broad, toothy grin back across her face. “This portfolio is incredible.”

He relaxed against his chair, released his breath, and allowed himself to smile back at her. “Thank you,” he told her again, and looked down to hide the way his face flushed. His favorite author liked his art, he realized suddenly. Takatsuki Sen liked his art.

She snapped his portfolio shut, and the sound drew his attention back to her. She held it out to him, and he took it back carefully. “You’re very talented,” she told him, and he thanked her again. That sounded strange coming from someone like her, he thought. It wasn’t the first time someone had told him so. But it was somehow different to hear it from someone whose art he admired so much.

“Do you have a card?” she asked abruptly, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Oh, yes,” he answered, digging through his bag to find one. He held it out to her, and she took it with both hands, admiring it for a moment before placing it carefully into her own bag.

“I’ll be in touch,” she told him with a smile, and pushed back from the table.

He nodded, rushing to gather his things and straighten his portfolio, and when he looked up, she had gone. He turned to look out the window, caught a glimpse of her hair fleeting down the street, and then nothing.

-

He walked home in a daze, replaying their conversation over and over in his mind, wondering if he should have said things differently.

She had told him she liked his art, so that was a good sign, right? But then, that wasn't the only concern when it came to the job. She'd planned a very long project, and she'd be working on it for years. She couldn't pick someone she didn't like, no matter how good their art.

He sighed, sliding his key into his lock and pushing open his apartment door. He probably didn't fit that part of the job requirements. Maybe he shouldn't have gushed about her writing so much.

He slipped off his shoes and padded back to his bedroom, and placed his bag on his desk. He plopped down onto his bed, scanning his shelves and wondering which book he should try reading to get his mind off that disaster of an interview, when a sudden sensation in his pocket made him jump.

His phone went off again -- probably Hide bothering him for details about the meeting -- and he pulled it out to glance at the screen. His brow raised in confusion when he read the display.

There was a text from an unknown sender, and when he swiped the screen to read it, he swore his heart almost stopped.

“I'd like you to meet with my publisher to discuss the position,” it read. “He's in charge of the hiring decisions for the project.” It was quickly followed by a second message, listing an address and a time for the meeting.

He stared at the text for a long time, letting it sink in, wondering if this could really be true. But no matter how many times he read it, the message stayed the same.

This is real, he thought. This is real and Takatsuki wants to work with me.

He felt like he was going to faint.

He shot Hide a quick text, and collapsed back onto his bed. He couldn't keep the huge grin from spreading across his face.

Takatsuki liked his art. She liked his art, and now she wanted him to meet with the person who would hire him to collaborate with her.

He covered his face with his hands, embarrassed by his excitement even though he was alone in his room. Nothing this good ever happened to him. But maybe this was where his luck would finally change.

He almost couldn't believe it. Him. Kaneki Ken. Young, relatively unknown horror artist, new to the industry. Was going to be working with Takatsuki Sen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok this has been basically done for so long but I’ve still taken forever to post it. I’m sorry. Here’s my apology.

Kaneki stared up at the huge building that housed Takatsuki’s publisher, and felt very small.   
  
Even after the positive meeting with Takatsuki herself, he couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that had settled on him.

The feeling didn't dissipate when he entered, or when he stepped inside the pristine elevator to the top floor. He watched the numbers tick down to his stop, and felt the weight in his stomach grow with each one.

The numbers closed in, until the elevator stopped. Doors opened with a ping to reveal a large reception desk in an otherwise empty room. A young looking girl with dark bangs framing her face sat behind the desk. She didn’t look up when Kaneki approached. After a tense, awkward silence, Kaneki cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, I’m here to meet --”

“Please sign in,” the receptionist interrupted, pointing to a clipboard a few feet away.

“Oh,” he answered, and rushed to write his name. When he finished, the receptionist slid a badge across the desk.

“You’re expected. Take the hall to the end, make a left. It’s the last door.”

“Thank you,” Kaneki replied, taking the guest badge and clipping it to his shirt. The receptionist grunted and returned to whatever work she had been doing.

He followed her directions, and found himself in front of an unlabelled door at the end of a hall. He glanced around, looking for another door in case he was in the wrong place, but this appeared to be the only office nearby. He took a deep breath to prepared himself, checked the time to make sure he wasn’t early or late, and knocked softly.

There was no response.

He knocked once more, then again, louder. There was a brief moment of panic. He wondered if he was in the wrong place after all.

Finally, a voice called out from inside, commanding him to enter. Kaneki sighed in relief, tried to calm himself, and pushed open the door.

A man with shockingly white hair sat behind a large, imposing desk. His features were obscured by a white surgical mask, leaving just his eyes exposed. He didn’t look up when Kaneki entered, eyes fixed purposefully on a stack of papers in front of him.   
  
Kaneki took a few nervous steps into the room and hesitated beside the chairs in front of the desk, unsure if he should sit or wait for the man to invite him to sit. The man glanced up just then, and Kaneki got the very distinct feeling that he was irritated to have to lay eyes on him at all.   
  
“What are you doing still standing? Sit down,” the man snapped, and just as quickly as he had looked up, he turned his gaze back to his work.   
  
Kaneki stumbled in his haste to take a seat, and a heavy sigh. He rushed to sit up properly and straighten his sweater, but when he finally gathered the courage to look up, the man was still staring at his paperwork.   
  
Kaneki folded his hands in his lap, twisting his fingers nervously, and tried not to think about how much of a bad impression he’d already made. The minutes dragged on, the only sound the soft scratch of a pen across paper. Kaneki took the opportunity to glance around the room.

The walls were lined with bookshelves, all full of books and folders. There was a shelf of Takatsuki’s work, in the order they were published, as well as a few other authors Kaneki recognized as contracted with this publishing company. There were manuscripts, unlabelled except for dates and project titles, lining the lower shelves, along with what Kaneki guessed was all the paperwork associated with each project.   
  
After an eternity, the man moved his stack of paperwork into a bin on the other side of his desk, and turned his attention fully onto Kaneki.   
  
“You’re the artist,” the man stated. He did not ask, Kaneki noted. “Takatsuki forwarded your information to me.”   
  
Kaneki felt like the man expected him to speak, but he had no idea what to say. He nodded instead, and hoped that would assuage him for now.   
  
This was apparently good enough, because the man deigned to introduce himself. “I’m Takatsuki’s publishing agent, Tatara.”   
  
Kaneki smiled politely. “It’s nice to meet --”

“This project is a very large one. Takatsuki and many members of this agency, myself included, have already invested a large amount of time into planning this serialization. We believe in this project and its potential.”

Kaneki nodded eagerly. “I’m honored that you’re considering me for --”   
  
“Do you have prior experience with serializations?” Tatara interrupted.   
  
Kaneki's face flushed. “Um, not exactly, but --”   
  
“What is the largest project you’ve worked on?” he interrupted again, and made a note on the paper in front of him.   
  
“Well, I’ve only published short stories so far. The longest of those was --”

“Have you worked on collaborations before?” Tatara asked, still writing.

“Ah, not yet, but I admire Takatsuki and I’m looking forward to --”   
  
“How long has your current agent been in the business?” He made another note.   
  
“Well, I’m his first client, but he’s been really great with --”   
  
“Why isn’t he at this meeting?” Tatara didn't make a note, and the sinking feeling in his stomach told Kaneki that was worse.   
  
“Um, I didn’t -- he didn’t --”   
  
"I've heard enough." Kaneki felt the blood drain from his face. Tatara capped his pen and set it aside. "I’ll be clear. Takatsuki likes your art. That’s the reason we’re meeting today.”

Kaneki knew this, but his heart raced faster despite himself.  _ Takatsuki liked his art. _

“But Takatsuki is not the one hiring you. Ultimately, it's her publisher's decision." He fixed Kaneki with a purposeful stare. "My decision."   
  
“Of course. I understand,” Kaneki answered quickly.

Tatara looked away, turning his focus to his computer, and began typing. Kaneki sat in silence, waiting for something else, wondering if he should try to say something else. He opened his mouth, ready to argue for himself one last time, and --   
  
"We'll be in touch," Tatara said, ending the conversation and Kaneki's dreams in four small words.   
  
-   
  
Kaneki's commute home was a blur. He must have walked from Tatara's office to the elevator, and taken a long ride to the ground floor. He must have walked to the train station, gotten on the correct train, and gotten off at his stop. But he couldn't recall the steps he'd taken, until he was standing in front of his apartment building.   
  
"Oh," he said to himself when he realized. And then the weight of his failure sank in.   
  
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his keys, and it hit him like a blow to the gut. He wouldn't be working with Takatsuki. He wouldn't ever see her again, probably, since he wouldn't have the courage to face her at a book signing. He would spend the next months, the next years, anticipating the release of each chapter of her series. He would read each one over and over, to remind himself of what an artist good enough to work with Takatsuki looked like, because it wouldn’t be him.

The corners of his eyes began to prickle, and his hand shook as he tried to unlock his apartment door. He took a deep breath to steady himself, forcing the tears back, refusing to cry in public. His key found the lock, and he turned it quickly, slipping inside and slamming the door behind him.

He collapsed against the door, let out a shaky breath, and let the tears come.

Kaneki didn’t know how long he stood there, back pressed against his door and tears streaming down his face, before his phone vibrated in his pocket. He thought about ignoring it, but found himself unlocking it to read the text anyway.   
  
[ From: Touka   
  
How did it go? ]   
  
He sighed, not sure how to answer that, or even if he wanted to. But as he was about to shove his phone back into his pocket, it vibrated again. Another text from Touka, as if she’d sensed him staring miserably at his phone and trying to ignore her.   
  
[ From: Touka   
  
Come over. ]   
  
Kaneki couldn’t help but smile.   
  
-   
  
Another short commute later, and he was standing outside her apartment. He knew better than to argue with Touka.   
  
He knocked on the door, and half a moment later, it flew open.   
  
Touka gave him a once over, taking in his appearance and his sad smile. “Tell me everything.”   
  
He nodded and followed her inside. He set himself gently on her couch while she slipped into the kitchen, and a few moments later, she returned with two cans of black coffee.   
  
She stood behind the couch, and gave him a can along with a look that said “I'm waiting”, and Kaneki smiled sadly up at her.   
  
He opened his mouth and --   
  
The front door crashed open. “Shitty sister, I'm home!” Ayato called, slamming the door behind him and dropping his bag on the floor.   
  
“You don't have to be so loud and annoying,” Touka retorted.   
  
Kaneki sighed, and opened his can of coffee. He also knew better than to get between the Kirishimas.   
  
“Thanks for the warm welcome,” Ayato spat. His eyes turned to Kaneki and he nodded in curt greeting before wandering into the kitchen.   
  
Touka rolled her eyes and turned back to Kaneki. “You were saying?”   
  
Kaneki sighed, and scratched his cheek. “The meeting didn't go very well.”   
  
Touka gave him that look that told him she had figured that much and was getting impatient. He looked back down at his coffee. He didn't exactly want to explain -- it felt as if talking about it would make it more real. But he knew he'd have to eventually, and he knew Touka only wanted to help. So he took a deep breath, and made himself continue.   
  
"Her manager, Tatara, is hesitant to hire me because of my lack of experience with serializations," he sighed. "Which is fair. I've never worked on a project this large before, and I've never done a serialization. I'm not qualified, even if she likes my art."   
  
Touka opened her mouth to reply, but a loud, barking laugh cut her off.   
  
"God, I can't believe this," Ayato called from the kitchen. A moment later, he emerged, carrying his own can of black coffee.   
  
"Why are you such an ass?" Touka reached out to smack him on the shoulder, but he dodged her easily.   
  
Kaneki frowned into his lap, staring at his hands. "She said she wanted to hire me, but it’s her publisher's decision since I'd technically be working for them."   
  
"Of course she did," Ayato huffed, collapsing onto the other side of the couch and taking a long drink of his coffee. "That's how it works on paper. But Tatara's just a figurehead. Takatsuki's the one making all the decisions. Don't let her fool you."   
  
Kaneki blinked, wide eyes fixed on Ayato. "How do you know that?"   
  
Touka leaned over the back of the couch beside Ayato. "You didn't know? My shitty brother works for her publishing company."   
  
"Tch," Ayato rolled his eyes. "Like that guy cares who I work for."   
  
"He talks about work like he’s that Tatara's protege or something," Touka continued, turning towards Kaneki and pointedly ignoring Ayato's complaints. "According to my shitty brother, that guy acts like a hardass but he rolls over for whatever Takatsuki wants."   
  
Kaneki furrowed his brows. "Then, why did she say she liked my art and ask me to meet with her manager if she could hire me herself?"   
  
"Jeez, does someone have to spell everything out for you?" Ayato exclaimed, expression twisting into a grimace. He turned to Touka, "Shitty sister, why are you friends this guy?"   
  
“Why is your personality so bad?” Touka retorted.   
  
Ayato huffed, but turned back to face Kaneki. "Look, there's no one she trusts more than Tatara. That’s why she wanted you to meet with him. She wanted his opinion on you." Ayato paused to wrinkle his nose, as if he smelled something foul. "And he hates everyone and he’s good at intimidating people. So of course he got to you."   
  
"Oi," Touka warned. Ayato rolled his eyes again but continued.   
  
"If Tatara doesn't think you're good enough, Takatsuki will listen to that. But if you impress her, you’re in. Go back to Tatara and demand the job, and you'll get it."   
  
“Are you -”   
  
“Yes, I’m sure,” Ayato snapped. “That’s how those two work. That’s the kind of thing Takatsuki likes to see. Do it and it doesn’t matter that Tatara hates your wimpy personality.”   
  
Kaneki grimaced. He wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of returning to face Tatara again. But if what Ayato said was true, and there was still a chance to work with Takatsuki… He clenched his fists in his lap.   
  
"Alright," he declared suddenly, and Ayato choked on his coffee.   
  
-   
  


For the second time in 24 hours, Kaneki found himself standing outside of Takatsuki’s publisher, staring up at the building. He felt only marginally less nauseous this time.

He took a deep breath, reminded himself how badly he wanted this, and stepped through the front door.

If the receptionist was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it, but the way she watched Kaneki sign in wasn’t any friendlier than yesterday. Kaneki spared her a sheepish smile as she passed him a badge, which she did not return. He wondered if all employees of this company were required to act intimidating and disinterested to all potential hires.

This time when he found himself in front of the single unlabelled door, he knocked loudly the first time. The voice called out again, and he entered. He stepped forward and took a seat in front of the desk. The white-haired man glanced up after a moment.

  
“You’re back,” Tatara observed. Kaneki didn’t miss the hint of amusement in his tone.

  
“I’d like you to reconsider me for this project,” Kaneki began. Tatara quirked a brow, and Kaneki fought the urge to shrink away from him. “I know I don’t have experience working on serializations, and I haven’t been in the industry very long. But I also know I can do this. Takatsuki likes my work, and I feel inspired by hers. I know we can create something great together.”   
  
Tatara stared down at him in silence, and all Kaneki’s confidence from a moment ago began to waver. Had he said enough? Too much? What was Tatara --   
  
“Fine,” Tatara replied, turning back to his computer.   
  
Kaneki hesitated, waiting for him to elaborate, but Tatara seemed to be planning to ignore him. “Fine?” Kaneki ventured after an uncomfortably long silence.   
  
Tatara glared up from his work. “I’ll take it under consideration. We’ll be in contact once I’ve made a decision.” He turned back to his monitor, again, and this time Kaneki took his cue to leave.   
  
“Thank you, sir,” he answered with a quick bow, and managed to make it down the hall before letting himself collapse against a wall to catch his breath.   
  
-   
  
The sun was sinking lower toward the horizon, and Tatara sat peacefully at his desk, reading through documents and typing notes to his subordinates. With the exception of that artist's intrusion in the morning, he'd had a productive day, free from distractions or irritations. He was on track to finish his work well before schedule, and might even head home at a reasonable time.   
  
But a noise outside his office told him he was a fool for allowing himself to hope. The handle turned, the door cracked open, and he knew he was doomed.   
  
"Tatara~" That sing-song voice sealed his fate.   
  
"Takatsuki," he answered as she slipped into his office.   
  
She draped herself across one of his office chairs, hooking her legs over one arm and resting her shoulders against the other. "I got tired of my office and decided I needed a break," she told him, holding up a well-worn book and opening it to a dog-eared page.   
  
"Don't you have a deadline approaching?"   
  
She hummed and kicked off her shoes, still fixated on her book. Tatara sighed.    
  
“Since you’re here, I might as well inform you.” She hummed dismissively. Tatara tried not to grind his teeth. “Your artist came back this morning.”   
  
She grinned, finally looking up. “Oho, did he?”   
  
Tatara folded his arms across his chest. "He demanded I reconsider him for the series."

“Ha,” Eto barked. “He has more guts than I thought.”

Tatara hummed, unconvinced. “He’s friends with Kirishima’s sister. The kid might have put him up to it.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Eto answered easily, brushing her messy hair back from her face. “But he still  _ demanded  _ the job from you. I’m impressed. Not many can stand up to your grumpy face.”

He arched a brow to let her know he did not share her amusement. “That’s why you hired me.”

She laughed again, soft and airy. “Well, are you going to give it to him?” The grin he was all too familiar with spread across her face.

“I think you already know the answer.”

  
-   
  
“That was so cool of you, Kaneki!” Hide exclaimed, slapping Kaneki across the back in encouragement.    
  
“Ah, it didn’t feel very cool," Kaneki groaned as he slid into the chair across from Hide. He dropped his bag beside him and his phone onto the table. "It just felt stressful."   
  
"But you have a better chance now, right? You did everything you could, you should feel good about yourself!" Hide responded brightly, and Kaneki had to smile in response.   
  
"I guess you're right," he muttered.   
  
"Of course I'm --" Kaneki's phone vibrated across the table, shocking them into silence.   
  
They stared at the phone, now quiet and motionless, then stared at each other.   
  
“Well,” Hide licked his lips, “are you going to check it?”   
  
Kaneki grimaced, but reached out to pick up his phone. He swiped his thumb across the screen, then inhaled sharply. “It’s from her.”   
  
Hide leaned forward, trying to peer around Kaneki’s hand to see, but Kaneki moved his phone screen further out of sight. “Come on, don’t leave us in suspense! Open it!”   
  
Kaneki swallowed hard, and pressed his thumb to the screen.   
  
He couldn’t hide his grin as he flipped the phone around to show Hide the message, especially not when Hide started loudly celebrating for him.   
  
"Kaneki! This is amazing! This is so great! We've gotta -- we're gonna throw you a party! We have to celebrate! I have to -- I need to call Touka! Can I tell Touka? Kaneki, this is -- ahh!"   
  
Kaneki looked back at the phone in his hands, and saw it shaking. He tightened his grip, trying to steady his hands, and blinked quickly to clear his eyes.    
  
The sounds of Hide's celebration faded away, along with the rest of the world, as he read the message again.   
  
[ From: Takatsuki Sen   
  
I look forward to working together~ ]   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. I'm planning to continue this but I have absolutely no plot planned after the next chapter, so we'll see what happens.


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